Simple
by Catch23North
Summary: A good morning. Ken/Ryu, Ryu's POV. Loosely based on the Street Fighter II anime series.


If this were anyone else, I would say that he may wake up with second thoughts, and that I was nervous. I trust Ken not to have made that mistake, so I am not.

The morning sun streams in through the window to my right, and Ken is somehow sleeping through it. His hair is a spray of silk straw on the milky sheet above his head, and his face is neutral, mouth closed. Ken doesn't snore unless his nose is broken.

He turns onto his left side, bunching some of the blankets in front of him. His right hand moves up towards his face, and the powerful muscles of his shoulder shift beneath his skin, then relax ever so slightly as he completes the motion, rubbing his face sleepily.

I do not know what I feel for him.

I don't think it has a name.

All I do know is that it's going to be there until one of us dies.

I scoot closer to him across the futon, and drape my arm over his. The palm of my hand fits over his knuckles exactly, but then, I already knew that.

I am struck by how normal this feels. I try to imagine what this scene, the two of us, would look through anyone's eyes but my own. I can't.

Ken inhales deeply and slowly, then exhales the same way.

I can't see his eyes, but I know he's opened them. Ken closes his fingers under mine, then chuckles softly. He's saying that he thinks me putting my arm over him in his sleep was cute.

I don't mind.

Ken stretches, twisting out of my grasp in a long, languorous roll. He slaps the futon with his left hand and lies on his back, smiling up at the ceiling.

Then he turns over quickly, and scrambles on top of me, pinning my shoulders down against the futon. He's not trying to start a fight, though...

Ken wraps himself around me, trying to fit our bodies as close together as possible.

I can feel the heel of his right foot press against the back of my left knee, just before his leg slips around mine.

I hold him tightly, and bury my face against the side of his neck.

I don't kiss him, or lick him, or go for that spot right above the edge of his collarbone.

I just hang on.

I don't know how long we stay like this.

Ken makes a fist in my hair, and brings my face up to his.

We kiss, and the lip I split on his teeth last night stings.

Ken traces the cut on my lip with the tip of his tongue.

He presses his lips to mine again, warm and soft and strong.

I fit the palm of my hand over one of his shoulder blades, and rub my thumb just underneath it.

Ken's mouth goes slack for a moment as this distracts him, and I grin, breaking the kiss.

Ken glares at me, but doesn't comment.

Instead, he arches himself against me, eyes sparkling wickedly.

I groan into the quiet of the room, and my fingers dig into the hard muscles of Ken's back deeply. Ken's next breath shudders slightly, but that is all.

Simple is good.

I move one hand down to the small of Ken's back, and roll my hips upwards, thrusting my dick against his in a harsh, wonderful stroke. Ken makes a small choking noise in the back of his throat, and drives back against me. I laugh a little, because it feels so good. Ken nips my shoulder, and thrusts down against me again.

My face feels hot. Part of Ken's hair brushes across my cheek, and that feels cool.

He takes my rhythm, and I take his, and we can't seem to slow down this morning.

Heat pools and builds, ...and I can't take it any more.

I come against his stomach, my head thumps back into the padding of the futon hard enough to crack a brick, and Ken follows me ten breaths later.

Ken's head is resting against my shoulder.

I imagine waves of heat drifting off of the two of us like the slow shimmer of an asphalt road in summertime.

I open my eyes. The waves are real, but they're mostly ki, not heat. ...They're beautiful.

My own ki feels like it's been through a blender, though not in a bad way.

More like in a 'triple strawberry milkshake' kind of way.

Ken raises his head, then raises his eyebrows when he sees my expression.

"What?"

"Look..." I point to the ki waves. They're not as bright as they were a minute ago, but they're still there. The finger I'm pointing with swirls them a little.

"Cool," agrees Ken, smiling one of his small, unreadable smiles. "...So, what do you want to do today?"

"I dunno," I shrug. We exchange glances.

"Breakfast it is," Ken smirks.

--

-end-


End file.
